One Day at a Time ❤

Galinda + The Hair Toss™

Bonus : "You've been Galinda-fied"

If they’re not making it a big deal, you shouldn’t either.

If they’re really nervous or emotional, respond with compassion.

If they’re excited, be excited with them.

I’ve seen a lot of things that seem to imply that it’s always best to be really super amped about someone coming out, but that kind of energy can be embarrassing or uncomfortable if the person doesn’t feel the same way.

On the flip side, if you respond with indifference, you might think you’re being s good friend by not caring whether they’re gay or straight or whatevs, but that can be extremely invalidating if this is a monumental or exciting moment for the person.

“Here’s a bandaid for ya,” I said, producing one from my vest pocket.

“Oh, he’s not bleeding, thank you though!”

I lowered my voice and leaned in. “Kids think bandaids are health magic,” I said. “Ask him where it hurts and exploit that placebo effect.”

She did just that, and instantly the kid stopped crying and thanked her. “I’ll have to remember that,” she said.

Tell them their going to run out of tears so they drink the water.

During one visit, Ruth noticed the nurses would draw straws, afraid to go into one room, its door sealed by a big red bag. She asked why and the nurses told her the patient had AIDS.

On a repeat visit, and seeing the big red bag on the door, Ruth decided to disregard the warnings and sneaked into the room.

In the bed was a skeletal young man, who told Ruth he wanted to see his mother before he died. She left the room and told the nurses, who said, "Honey, his mother’s not coming. He’s been here six weeks. Nobody’s coming!”

Ruth called his mother anyway, who refused to come visit her son, who she described as a "sinner" and already dead to her, and that she wouldn't even claim his body when he died.

“I went back in his room and when I walked in, he said, "Oh, momma. I knew you’d come", and then he lifted his hand. And what was I going to do? So I took his hand. I said, "I’m here, honey. I’m here”, Ruth later recounted.

Ruth pulled a chair to his bedside, talked to him

and held his hand until he died 13 hours later.

After finally finding a funeral home that would his body, and paying for the cremation out of her own savings, Ruth buried his ashes on her family's large plot.

After this first encounter, Ruth cared for other patients. She would take them to appointments, obtain medications, apply for assistance, and even kept supplies of AIDS medications on hand, as some pharmacies would not carry them.

Ruth’s work soon became well known in the city and she received financial assistance from gay bars, "They would twirl up a drag show on Saturday night and here'd come the money. That's how we'd buy medicine, that's how we'd pay rent. If it hadn't been for the drag queens, I don't know what we would have done", Ruth said.

Over the next 30 years, Ruth cared for over 1,000 people and buried more than 40 on her family's plot most of whom were gay men whose families would not claim their ashes.